Geoffery Trates and the Moral Myths
by IotusGrimmings
Summary: A tale about a young Geoffrey Trates who grows up in the wake of Harry's victory over Voldemort. When the world persecutes Death Eaters will Geoffrey be safe with so many ties to them, especially with rumors of a comeback surfacing?
1. Chapter 1  Dead Men's Tales

CHAPTER ONE

DEAD MEN'S TALES

One singular figure stood, shrouded in a impenetrable darkness. Stood unflinchingly as that dark-ness swirled and faint red color faded into the blank scene. The edges of the world began to condense together into large pillars that soared to a ceiling where the first lights of dawn could be glimpsed. As suddenly as this occurred, so to did hundreds of figures seem to ooze up from the ground and solidify into witches, wizards, house-elfs, centaurs, giants and car-sized spiders. All at once, the serenity of the formation was broken . . . war broke out.

The witches and wizards wearing black colored cloaks, some adorned with hoods and masks, were making their way after their master into the Great Hall of Hogwarts. They fought with no reserves, unlike their adversaries who threw measly jinxes and spells their way, with every intention of living out the notion of kill or be killed. It was as if they could feel the inexorable finality of their predicament. This seemed to be the only sentiment they shared with their detested enemies.

This fighting, however, seemed to not phase the solitary figure, who stood before the scene existed, in the least. The figure nonchalantly strolled among the combatants, pausing occasionally before particularly ferocious outbreaks in the dueling -- it seemed to know exactly what was going to occur before it occurred. . . .

Surely enough, when a boy, who could be no older than eighteen appeared in the middle of the battle much to the surprise of many there, the figure made no great recognition of it.

The boy, whom the entire crowd knew the importance of, garnered no attention from the figure. Harry, the boy, called out to one in the crowd, gathering not only the cold stare of the snake-like eyes, but every other eye of the defenders of the castle. As he did this, several of those who allied themselves to the tall, pale, skeletal figure gathered together and helped out their collaborators recover from the curses they took. Once they'd done this, they quietly took a place behind the defenders to make a counter-attack while they stood mesmerized. In unison they raised their wands and finally looked at the scene to which the defenders stood watching with bated breath and all of their hands froze in mid-air.

The Dark Lord fell to the ground while every eye remained glued to him, except those of the figure.

A moment later the scene shifted to a lonely corridor in the same castle where the lone figure stood waiting. The figure mad no move, no sound, and simply waited patiently. Faintly, further down the corridor, the sound of crashing footfalls was fast approaching. The echo grew stronger and stronger until the source could be seen rushing through the hall.

A number of men and women dressed in black cloaks with matching dark hoods and some decorated with demonic masks charged as quickly as they could out of the hall. As they ran, they waved their wands over their shoulders, shooting jets of green light from the tips. They weren't attempting to hit any of their pursuers, merely trying to hold them off until they made it to their point of escape. They ran for their lives passing in front of the solitary one. So close, in fact, that it could be told that they were none other than the ones that had stood moments ago at the entrance to the Great Hall.

That lone figure began to follow after the group in black taking up a brisk stride seeming to fit right in with them. Even their attire matched and none could tell that this newcomer was not a part of the original group.

Together they trudged along passing statues, paintings and many other splendors and not taking a second notice. Except of one. A bust of a particularly ugly witch which the flocked to and quickly passed into it's hidden pathways. The footsteps behind them of their pursuers grew louder and louder, then slowly faded off down the other side of the corridor. Knowing that someone would know they used this path eventually, they sealed the way back as best they could.

"Are we the only ones left?" asked the tallest of the group passing his wand across his face so that the mask became transparent. "I mean it can't be possible that they got everyone."

"I think everyone else broke for the gate as soon as the Dark Lord fell. They _should_ be safe," said a witch who also passed her wand in front of her face to reveal sunken soulless eyes. "Those filthy-blooded fools seemed much more engrossed by petty Potter."

"What is our next step?" at this question everyone fell silent as they carefully moved down the earthen passage. Their collective breaths stood bated, as all realized the weight of the question being asked.

"We do nothing," the answer was from a cold deep voice. "There isn't anything we can do."

"Yes, we need to hide."

A general murmur of ascent sounded from the group at these words only to be drowned out by the bustling of footsteps on a floor above their heads. All at once, the group pulled out their wands once again and held them aloft.

"Go into hiding, only come out if you can guarantee your safety from prison. The last thing we need is to lose our numbers. Watch for signs leading to a new gathering. Until then, keep quiet," instructed that voice that was deep and cold at the same moment. With that, all at once, the group apparated to their separate paths. . . . All except for two . . . the newcomer and one other. . . .

Again, the scene shifted, this time revealing the solemn newcomer and the lone Death Eater standing together in another hall in the castle. This time, the Death Eater stood stock still instead of bolting at the sound of the footsteps coming nearer. Contrasting this, the solitary one paces in the shadows of the hall casting furtive glances down the hall where the footsteps could be heard coming.

As the footsteps grew nearer, they slowed, knowing their quarry was not going to run. The footsteps carried a certain weight about them despite the seemingly nonchalant disposition of the Death Eater standing there.

"Thank goodness it you," he called to the one approaching.

The sentiment didn't seem to be shared.

As soon as the person came around the corner, it could be told why the man was appreciative of his chaser. She stood at her full height coming at about his eye level with a wondrous sense of hospitality about her. Her face was warm, genial and exuded the idea of this woman being the a sort of matron.

The thing that betrayed this exterior was the eyes though. They showed none of this warmness in their deep depths. Only malice at the one reflected in their mires. It seemed, as the man stared into those eyes, that his reflection was taken in, sunken deep beneath the surface in the deep brown waters and only a twisted, contorted vision of him returned to the surface.

"Please -- " he pleaded, looking into her eyes and seeing her mind.

"Hah! I've given you enough chances -- each more a mistake than the last."

"But -- "

"Where's that bitch of yours now?" she taunted. "Or did you just give her away?"

"There's more to i --"

"Your filthy lies will get you nowhere anymore Niccolo, time to face judgment."

"I'll admit, I've done some horrendous things, but you wouldn't risk killing me when _he_ is still out there would you?" the man stammered out before she could cut him off again.

"The lies end now. AVADA KEDAVRA!" she cried out pointing her wand squarely at his chest, calling the attention of some of the people in nearby rooms.

"Was that you?" asked an incredulous Hogsmeade citizen who had come to help with the fight.

"Unfortunately," she replied calmly composing herself. "He came running at me and that was all I could manage to do."

"Right. Shouldn't matter much, you can see that he was in the inner circle anyway, look at the left wrist."

"Good riddance," said an older wizard who joined the group.

All three of the searchers stood watching the body as if it were supposed to jump up at any moment. They all knew better though, just as the lone figure knew as well. . . .

As if the surroundings too died with that spell, they melted away and slowly reformed into a new, less somber scene. The sun reflected onto a carpeted floor through many color-stained windows. The walls that surrounded the solitary figure were adorned with a smattering of many important witches and wizards from across the ages.

The owner took no notice of this or the lone figure standing in the hall though as he charged through the hall with the quiet shadow following. Only did the owner stop when a loud crashing sounded from his right, towards the entrance to his home.

He took a few steps backward, attempting to gain a few more seconds to think up some excuse that was eluding his capture. Undaunted by his inability to gather a viable excuse, he made a broad sweeping gesture with his wand across the room.

"At least," he muttered, "they won't be able to put me away for these things."

As he finished uttering those solemn words, two things occurred at once. Everything in the room that had the remotest of links to the dark arts vanished into thin air, heading for some unknown location. At that same moment, three wizards crashed through the door that separated the entrance room from the room the dark wizard stood in.

"_Expelliarmus_," bellowed the closest wizard before the man could think to defend himself.

"Finally got the illustrious Kinsleigh, eh?" said another of the aurors.

"Like to see him wiggle out of this one!"

"Yeah, we all . . . know . . ."

But no one would ever know the rest of that thought as the figure before them began to have it's skin boil. It's nose shrunk and turned up as it's eyes began to bulge outward and mouth twisted into a thin smirk. The robes it was wearing momentarily tightened around the body before relaxing once he returned to his normal stature. In the confusion of the moment, the man reached inside of his cloak and pulled out a small corked bottle. Ripping the cork with his teeth, he managed to pour a few drops before the aurors broke into action and shot the bottle from his hands.

"Who are you!?" said the thin wizard with green hair who never completed his thought.

"Some fine aurors you lot are. Been chasing me for months . . . never realizing that the real Kinsleigh died at the battle," he taunted, adding a maniacal cackle at the end.

"Explain," demanded the auror who had disarmed him. But it seemed their prey was no more aware of them then he was of the time as he continued to ramble on.

"Didn't even realize after that muggle – another time. . . ."

"He's got a point Chris – the Kinsleigh I knew wouldn't do like this guy has."

"I know, but _if_ what he says is true, we've wasted the last six months chasing down an impostor," retorted the thin wizard with green hair. "An impostor that, while he may be an evil one himself, isn't that high a priority."

"We have not wasted anytime," said the third auror calmly in his cold deep voice. "We know that Kinsleigh has been dead and caught _this _--" he inclined his bald head towards the chattering body slumped on the floor, "-- scum. Every bit of . . . filth," he could barely hide his revulsion at having to condemn a brother like this, "we get, the better."

"Yeah," chimed in the other two.

"This man doesn't seem like he'll be making it out of here on his own. Chris?"

"Get him to Mungo's, way ahead of you Umbra."

"Good," Umbra said. "I'll get back to the offices to mark him off. Let's meet back in ten, we shouldn't be that far --"

Again, the scene seemed to faded out, obscuring the man's cold deep voice. The three aurors became an amorphous mass and melded with everything else in that decorated room. Slowly the melted mess untangled itself to form yet another scene in a spacious room.

"So you found him?" intoned a wtich who had sunken, soulless eyes. "At Trates'?"

"Yeah, turned out he was an impostor. Problem is, he was one of ours."

"Yes, out ranks are running thin. What'd you do with him?"

"I sent Chris to put him in St. Mungo's to get him healed so that he can be accessed easily. If he gets in, it'll be easy to keep him in, and even easier to get him out should the time arise," explained Umbra.

"That puts a fair few of us that are in a position to continue the Dark Lord's plans because of you. If you weren't at the helm of this, I don't know where we'd be."

"It is the only reason I tolerate the filth."

"You don't need to anymore, all the good that can be gathered from the Ministry is mined. The changes that filth, Shacklebolt, is putting in are making your position too dangerous. You need to retire, We don't need you getting caught."

"Are you certain that it is impossible to stay?"

"Quite," reassured the figure.

Whatever the reply was though, was lost in rush of the world collapsing again. Slower this time, the entire world constructed itself back up into a compartment aboard a scarlet train on it's way out of a station. A lone boy sat inside aside from the observer who merely stared at the boy for some time.

But, being a boy, he was not content to sit alone in his compartment and jumped off to search for friends to talk to. He opened the door and paused for a brief moment and took in the sight of his home away from home, Hogwarts. The home, which up until last night had been the safest place in all of England. He already missed his comfortable bed in his room that lay deep beneath the lake and the common room that connected to the dungeons where he had had many memories from his first year there.

This reminiscing seemed to remind him of what he was doing beforehand and he set off again, with the observer close at his heels. He passed several compartments, with assortments of different year students and even one with a fully grown witch sitting very near the door. Who had, up until a second ago been watching him with earnest. But it was no matter, as he set off down the train corridor.

As the boy advanced down the corridor, he slowly became unfocused and slowly was lost from all sight of the observer. It was no matter though, the real focus of this world was elsewhere on the train. So, slowly the person who had been watching got up and walked down the corridor and found the person she was looking for. Unfortunately for her, this prey was a hunter at heart and struck her down before she could get her wand even pulled out.

As she fell to the ground, the world all around her seemed to fall away with her. At least everything that could be seen. The churn of the train could still be heard in the background as well as the commotion the man was making to check on his target. Which he apparently got to and dropped a couple of drops of clear liquid into the mouth. He then promptly muttered '_ennervate_' under his breath and waited for the witch to sit up.

"You a Death Eater?" he asked taking care to make sure he had room for wandwork should he need it.

"When the other option is you filth?" she said emphasizing the it by spitting in his face. "Of course."

"That's a one way trip to Azkaban trip for you honey, _stupefy_."

Clouds obscured the entire world this time and quickly spread away to reveal a hanging moon above and twinkling stars through the gap between two buildings. The silvery light of the moon cast spidery shadows across everything transforming it into a horrid abstraction of the night.

No more immune to it than the posts outside the alley, a woman hurried that ran wildly down the street arrived in the alleyway where the observer stood. The new woman looked about wildly trying to catch a glimpse of a non-existent attacker. Cherishing the moment of peace, she doubled over and retched on the ground from over-exertion.

She wiped off her mouth with the edge of her traveler's cloak and threw it aside thinking she'd buy a new one when she got the chance. She took another pause and composed herself and solemnly walked down the alley reaching the fence at the end. At about a yard's distance she began to fumble through her clothes searching for her wand, but not finding it.

Feeling frantic, she turned to gather her cloak remembering it was in the hidden pocket in the cloak. When she made to turn though, she knew immediately that it wouldn't be there. It was jabbed squarely between her shoulder blades.

"_Please_. . . . I'll do anything!" she cried. Remarkably, at this, the long silent observer made an audible snort of disbelief and muttered something that was lost to the sound of a car passing nearby.

"I'm sure you would," the attacker said. "But do you think I want to kill you quick and easy? Haha, no, no. You will suffer." No sooner had the last syllable left the attacker's mouth than the attacker had wrenched back her head and poured a potion down her throat and released her suddenly.

She sputtered, choking on the potion that she had just been force-fed, and slowly looked up towards the face of the attacker who muttered '_crucio_' and watched her twitch in agony. The spell lifted quickly and the attacker knew the desired effect had been achieved. She had been brought close enough to death that she was giving off her memories and they were promptly scooped up into a small bottle. With the task accomplished, the attacker wore a satisfied grin that couldn't be hidden despite the mask that stood over it.

Dropping the wand back by the cloak and taking care to grab valuables, the scene was set. The attacker pulled a wand out and performed a memory charm that would ensure no one would ever know about this event.

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Author's Note: So there you have it, the first chapter. Now for my caveats that you should keep in mind when giving reviews if you would! Yes, I know there isn't much info here, but I was intending that, it is a Dark Lord Ascending / Spinner's End type of chapter, so there is more info hidden here than you know. Some scenes seem convoluted and short of my taking A LOT of time to edit those parts, that wouldn't change, so I apologize in advance. I'm fairly unfamiliar with how things work here as this is my first fanfic, so go easy on me. I am open to any and all criticism and embrace negative criticism more openly than positive as negative gives me more chance to improve my writing, so don't be shy.

In the meantime, I'll get underway with Chapter two!

EDIT: Small problem came up while writing Chapter two . . . I know I promised by this past Sunday it would be up, but due to a stupid mistake on my part, a large part of Chapter two needs to be edited. Expect it by the 19th at the latest, I won't have the quality be sub-par for my writing if it can be avoided.

For those who want more info:

Had a flashback scene that shifted tense two sentences in and I need to fix that. Problem is that the way it was originally written, I have to go back and pretty much rework every sentence because half of the verbs can't easily be transferred to the tense I need them to be in without changing sentence structure. Technically I could just add 'had' in front of all the verbs and make it right, but then the writing becomes incredibly redundant and I need to work on that. 

For those few who really are hoping for more from this story, I'll post a small teaser of Chapter two later on. It will just be a short excerpt that has already passed the editing phase, but don't forsake it for that.


	2. Small EXCERPT from CH2

He had busied himself with the forms, hoping that if he focused on them, he wouldn't embarrass himself by crying in front of the whole waiting room. _This is all I have left,_ he had thought to himself. _What more can happen to me?_ No sooner had that thought cross his mind then a solemn tear had came down his cheek.

Before the floodgates could be opened, Geoffrey had reminded himself of who he was and wiping it away quickly, Geoffrey had again busied himself with the forms in front of him. Slowly, he had made his way down the sheet until he hit a small box where it had asked what the patient was suffering from and he had looked up to ask the orderly if they knew what ailed her and had found a pair of eyes boring into him.

"My dear boy, we know what is wrong with your mother at last," the witch who was staring into him had said. "But I must know, was she taking any kinds of potions for anything?"

"N-not that I know of," Geoffrey had mumbled. He didn't know what it was, but he had found this witch very disconcerting.

"Hmm, well then, I suppose that _you_ didn't do it. . . . Your mum has been poisoned by a poorly concocted potion of some sort. Unless we know exactly what it is, there isn't anything we can do but belay the effects, which, unfortunately is death."

Geoffrey had just stood there rooted to the spot as stoutly as a great tree.

"S-s-so, you mean that . . ." he had trailed off as if saying it would bring finality.

"'Fraid so, sorry son. C'mon, I'll take you to see her."

Geoffrey felt the healer grab his shoulders and had been guided out of the crowed front room and back down the dreadful hall. He had heard the same cries rocking the walls on his way back through. The second time though, he had caught site of several of the occupants whose room's doors had been opened.

Trying to keep his mind away from all the tragedy, he had focused on these small windows that shone what seemed like other worlds. There had been one where an elderly wizard sat in a chair with a large amount of flowers sprouting from his mouth. Every time that the junior healer had asked him a question and he had gone to speak, the flowers had wilted and a new batch had bloomed. In another there had been a man that stood tall and spoke in a voice that was deep, yet cold at the same time. This had struck Geoffrey as odd: he had never heard such a voice, one that had shaken him so much.

Before Geoffrey could really get a good look at the owner, he had been steered around a corner and into his mother's room. The room from what he had seen earlier, had changed drastically. Before, it had been a cozy little room with a pattern on the wall and bright vivid colors had stared at him from every surface. Now, the vivaciousness of the colors seemed to drain right off the surface and collect in some unseen place. There had been no cheer to be found there.

Geoffrey had just stood in the door, staring. There hadn't been much else that he could have done, it had all been so new to him. His father, Niccolo Trates, had died some five years earlier, but Geoffrey had not been nearly as close to him as his mother.

"So, you'll be needing to take care of her then," the healer witch had said, bringing Geoffrey back down to the situation. "She only has a few weeks left in her . . . whatever that potion was, it won't take full effect for a fortnight or so, so make the most of it."

"Right," Geoffrey had responded, not really accepting it.


End file.
